Big Lies in a Small Town - Diane Chamberlain Page 0,118
his voice businesslike. “Now, when is the last time you two saw Mr. Drapple?
Oh God. She wasn’t ready for questions about Martin. She should have thought about what she might be asked and rehearsed her answers. She looked at Jesse. “When was it, Jess?” she asked him, but she could tell by the look of stark terror on Jesse’s usually calm face that he was going to be no help. She’d grown accustomed to him taking the lead these days. Accustomed to him saving her, really. Right now, he was paralyzed with fear. She was a white woman; he was a colored man. Even though she’d been the one to kill Martin Drapple, Jesse was undoubtedly in far more danger than she was.
She turned back to Karl. “I think it was the day you were here,” she said, scrambling to get it right. “Remember? All of us stretched the canvas? And Martin’s wife showed up?” She looked at Jesse again. “Right, Jesse?” she asked. “Was that the last time?”
Jesse tried to speak but nothing came out. He cleared his throat. “Yes, Miss Anna.” He spoke in the most subservient voice she’d ever heard come out of his mouth. “Pretty sure you got it right.”
“That was the last time?” Karl asked. His buddy was wandering around the warehouse, making Anna nervous. She tried to follow him out of the corner of her eye. Was there anything incriminating for him to find?
“What happened here?” the man asked, pointing to the red paint stain on the floor.
“Oh, I was clumsy when I opened a can.” She smiled at the little man. He was so round, the way he was packed in his uniform, that he looked like he should roll instead of walk. “I tried to open it too quickly,” she added. “Dropped the whole thing.”
“You opened the can way over here?” Officer Charles asked. “Why not over there?” He pointed to the table where all the paints were neatly lined up.
“I had a crate over there at the time, and I … it was too low.” She shrugged. “I should have opened it by the paint table. You’re right.” Brilliant, she thought, pleased she’d come up with an explanation, weak though it may have been. She smiled at him again. She needed him on her side.
“Why don’t you open the warehouse up to the public anymore?” Karl asked. “Folks were enjoyin’ it, watchin’ you paint.”
“Oh, I thought it would be more fun for them to see the finished product, you know, all at once. As a surprise. More dramatic that way. Weather hasn’t been too good for having the garage doors open, either.” Did that make sense? She couldn’t remember how the weather had been lately. It was the last thing on her mind.
Karl gave her a look that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She had to turn away. She glanced at Jesse, but he was staring into space. His body might have been in the warehouse, but Anna had the feeling his mind was on the banks of Queen Anne Creek.
Karl walked over to the mural and pointed to the fresh blue paint Jesse had hastily slapped over the motorcycle. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
Anna scrambled to find an answer in her untrustworthy brain, but Jesse cleared his throat. “Miss Anna, she don’t like how it was and is doin’ that part over again,” he said.
“I wasn’t addressin’ you, boy,” Karl snarled at him
“Don’t talk to him that way!” Anna said. She knew instantly that she’d spoken too quickly and too sharply, but she’d never heard Karl talk like that. “You know his name.” She tried to speak more calmly. Softly. “It’s ‘Jesse.’ You worked side by side with him to get this canvas on the wall, so please don’t act like you never saw him before.”
Karl glared at her and she knew she’d said way too much. She knew it before half those words were out of her mouth. One of the big burned-out ceiling lights suddenly flickered back to life and she let out a yelp.
“You’re wound up mighty tight, aren’t you?” Karl said. He nodded toward the door. “Come outside with me, Anna.”
Reluctantly, she followed him outside. He shut the door behind them and she hoped Jesse could handle Officer Charles on his own.
Outside, she turned to face Karl. “Why are you here?” she asked. “We don’t know anything about Martin Drapple.”